Definitely Trouble
by Coriandergirl
Summary: There's a new girl at Ouran, and as they can see, shes... Definitely Trouble!
1. Chapter 1

Chapter One

"Seriously? There's no way that's gonna happen! Come on! I'm not even a student! Why should I have to wear that hideous thing? No. I refuse to wear it. Hell, I don't really even need to go to the silly school. I can get _plenty_ of notes without ever setting foot in a place of education!" Already underthrilled about the prospect of her assigned project and dealing with people who spoke another language, the sight of the dreadful concoction of frilly, froufy, fluffy yellow chiffon and satin was the proverbial last straw on Noelle's back. She had accompanied her father on his business trip to Japan, foolishly thinking that she would be treated with the same freedom she enjoyed at home.

However, she hadn't counted on her mother's surviving hostility toward anything relating to her ex-husband. They had been divorced for over six years now, and the woman still refused to accept that she had lost responsibility and control over both her husband and daughter. Most of the time, she limited her forays into meddling to just the occaisonal phone call (read: twice a week, sometimes more), passively aggressive letters addressed to Noelle Hackenback (Hackenback was her mother's maiden name, Noelle and her father both answered to Cammerson), and the random surprise visits (she had the uncanny knack of showing up just when least expected; Noelle's first date, for example [not a pretty story—it ended on tears on his side, and a destroyed pair of shoes on hers. Her mother came out of it practically glowing, of course]).Okay, so perhaps she _should_ have expected something from her mother, but this really was ridiculous, not to mention unfair.

_Normal kids get to go on vacation to a foreign country and do fun things like sightsee and shop; I have to go to school. And as if that;s not bad enough, I have this stupid assignment that she somehow roped my teachers into agreeing with to do too! How am I _ever_ supposed to have fun?! I would have been better off just staying home…at least then I wouldn't have to face that monstrosity._

Glaring maliciously at the insult in yellow before her, Noelle failed to notice that her father had already left the room, muttering that he didn't care what she did, as long as she didn't bring the police—or her mother's lawyer—down on him. No, all she could think of was how totally and completely unfair her life was. And the worst part? Not only was she going to haver to put up with being the stupid American amongst the over-active Japanese students, and they strange new kid, but the school she was being forced to attend and observe was one of the richest and most pretentious ones in the country. If there was one thing Noelle hated worse than unfairness, it was snobbery.

_Why couldn't dad's friend work at one of the more normal schools?Why? I swear, I think the world hates me… In any event, there's no way I'm going to let that thing touch me. They'll either have to take me the way I am, or send me packing. (Not such a bad alternative, that.) Besides, I'm dessed perfectly reasonably for the twenty-first century. There is absolutely _no_ need to even consider wearing such absurdity._

Turning immediately on her heel and pausing only a moment to grab her bag and jacket from the chair by the door and switch off the lights, Noelle quickly marched out of the apartment they were renting. As she rushed down the stairs (in her opinion, that was the only correct way to travel down a flight of stairs—gravity is there to provide amusement, right?) and made her way down to the train station, Noelle's mood lightened considerably. If she had to go do this insane task, the least she could do would be to make fun for herself.

_The grades don't matter; my teachers back home probably don't even want to think about me, or any of their students right now. And again, what's the worst these people could do here? Expell me? Please! Then maybe I could enjoy my summer in peace! Let's show them just what they agreed to, letting an American girl into their sacred halls! No holds barred!_

All the time spent riding the incredibly packed train to her temporary new school, Noelle imagined up ways to underride any expectations for her behavior there. The first thing to go was the Japanese. While it was true that she had a passable understanding of the language, the administrators didn't know this, and she now decided it would remain that way. Next was her studiousness. Predicting that she would most likely be placed with the lowest level classes, as she was just another stupid American, Noelle decided that, once again, they didn't know what kind of a student she was, and this way she could immediately bypass any possible expectations for intellectual excellence. And besides, someone with no knowledge of the Japanese language would find it hard to excell anyway.

The third and final decision on the train concerned how she interacted with others. Usually, Noelle was a moderately quiet person. Not because she was shy, so much as she found it was easier to get along witheveryone if she let others take on the roles of class characters. Indeed, she could argue with the best of them, and once she got going, she wouldn't cease her protestations until the other part admitted defeat. Thus for her following educational experiment, the young American lady chose to emphasize her louder, opinionated aspects, and allow herself to act however she felt like, for once.

Stepping off theplatform at last, and turning toward the gates separating the rest of the world from the obviously ostentatious high school, Noelle found that her hands and legs were skaing with excitement. _Who knew that thumbing your nose at all society could be so invigorating? I can hardly wait to meet my new self!_

With these last exultant thoughts, Noelle crossed the line, and entered into the world of Ouran Hich School, completely unsuspecting of what was to come.


	2. Chapter 2

Chapter Two

From the second the girl walked through the doorway, Kyouya Ootori knew she would be trouble. Everything about her screamed impertinence and inobedience, from her apparent refusal of the uniform, to the bubble gum she chewed, to the veritable gleam of mischeif in her eyes. _So this is the American honors student come to spend a month learning about Japanese culture, huh? Why do I feel like we've been duped?_

Of course, Kyouya had done his homework, and fully researched the girl, after hearing from the school director about the odd case. (Apparently, her mother had already called a grand total of eleven times, asking all sorts of probing questions and making unusual demands. All the secretaries had since learned to be especially careful about answering the phone since then, checking the number first, in case it was the 'psychomom,'as they called her.)

An almost laughably gentle digging had turned up almost too much information for the youngest ootori to sift through. From newspaper clippings to school reports, surprisingly open school grade records, and even personal blogs, Kyouya had surmised that the coming temporary transfer student would be well deserving of an Ouran education, and had even recommended she be placed in class A (usually, middle class foreigners would be placed in class B, where the students weren't quite so high-profile as class A, but not nearly so shady as class C's young Yuakuza-in-waiting). Now, though, he began to question his descision.

The flyaway brunette standing unfalteringly before the class in her black jeans, novelty tee-shirt (did it _really_ say that?), denim thigh-length jacket-dress, and incongruous knit hat looked nothing like the studious shy girl he'd envisioned. (Despite the sheer volume of information on the American, there were almost no pictures of her, and those credited as featuring her face always had at least five other people, several of whom appeared time after time in every picture.)

While at first no one else had noticed her presence amongst them, the class was soon alerted to the interloper when _someone_ suddenly squealed in excitement and shot to her side. This _someone_, a particulary blonde, dramatic _someone_, had been poking Kyouyas' arm, shoulder, and ear for a good five minutes before he'd even realized that perhaps Ootori's attention might be focused elsewhere. Upon making this monumental realization, that selfsame _someone_ just had to know what could _possibly_ be more interesting than his own news about the patterns he'd seen in his morning toast crumbs or whatever. And then, _of course_, this overly affectionate, ridiculously friendy _someone_ couldn't help but to let out a gleeful yelp when he also saw the strange apparition before the class, and vault himself down the row to present the "fair young beauty" a "rose to match her own tender loveliness."

So the whole class was watching as the zealous frenchman smiled softly, placed an arm around the girl's shoulder in his customary half-hug, and was _shrugged off, overbalanced, and toppled to the floor._ Immediately, the classroom burst into uproar. The majority of the females either rushed to their fallen idol's side, or glared daggers at the source of his collapse, while the males in class broke into excitedly shocked conversation about the unprecedented rejection of the man they had come to think of as Ouran's King of Romance.

Through it all, the girl (Noelle, Kyouya now remebered) stood frozen just off the the side, staring at Tamaki with an expression that clearly said 'I don't know _what_ you just tried to pull, but I didn't like it, and I don't like you.' It was just as the object of her glare (for really, there was no other word for it) was standing up and turning to face her once more that the teacher finally walked into the classroom.

"Alright everyone, that's quite enough of that. I don't know what's going on, and I don't want to know. Just get back to your seats. We have a new student joining us today, and we want to make the best first impression poss—Oh!" As the boys and girls dutifully filed back to their desks, Ms. Yasumachi, their homeroom teacher, finally noticed the center of all the uproar.

"My goodness, you're already here! I wasn't expecting you for at least another five minutes or so! And you haven't even gotten your uniform yet! Well, no matter. Class, this is Cammerson, Noelle. Noelle is visiting us from America for the summer. We are very lucky to have her here! Noelle, why don't you tell the class a little about yourself?" As Ms. Yasumachi turned expectantly to the girl she'd just finished introducing, it was to see a very confused-looking American.

":I'm sorry, what did you say? I don't understand Japanese…:" The girl's voice was lower than most female voices Kyouya was used to hearing. Also, it had an American accent to it, which was quite a bit different from the British accents they were accustomed to at Ouran (their instructor, Mr. Byron, had a very heavy British accent, the kind that was known to make impressionable young girls swoon). However, it was not enough to mask from Kyouya the fact that she was lying. There was just something about the way that she emphasized her words that set off a little red flag in his mind. But apparently, he was the only one.

"Gasp! She only speaks English! No wonder she was so surprised by my greeting! :Fair damsel, please forgive me, I knew not what I did! Please accept this rose as a token of my apology!:" So saying, Tamaki had already risen out of his seat, stepping toward the girl to renew his affections, when—

" :I don't want your stupid flower! Can't you see that I don't like you?! Just leave me alone! Excuse me, ma'am, but can you please make this guy lay off?:" Flatly refusing to even look at the now-gloomy Suoh, she had turned to face the teacher.

":Well, um, that is to say, I am confused. I thought you would speak Japanese, and now I learn you don't! Hahaha, This is a funny situation!: Ootori! Please take Cammerson, Noelle down to the Administration Building and help her sort out this trouble!"

"But, professor!—"

"That's enough out of you, Suoh! Now stop sulking, and get back in your seat! We still have class today! :Dear, please follow Ootori Kyouya to the Administration Building now.:"

Retaking control over her class, Ms. Yasumachi all but shoved her newest headache out the door. As if it wasn't bad enough she had to deal with the flowery director's son _and_ the creepy Ootori fellow, now she also had this case on her hands! _The girl can't even speak Japanese! Why, oh _why_ does the world hate me so?_

Out in the hallway, Kyouya and Noelle studied eachother, neither making any move to head toward the Administration Building. She had her head cheekily tilted to one side, her arms crossed across her chest. He merely stood still, effortlessly looming over her, as he narrowed his eyes and catalogued every aspect of her person. As Noelle broke into a sunny smile, her eyes yet to back down, Kyouya knew his first impression was accurate.

_Definitely trouble…_


	3. Chapter 3

_I swear, if one more person tries to convince me to wear that dress, I'll set their hair on fire!_

Three hours or more had passed since the oddly severe guy had dropped her off at the Admin Building, and Noelle had yet to find one person in the whole institution whose company she could enjoy with any sort of permanence. The kindly nurse (who didn't look all that much older than herself, truth be told) had seemed halfway decent at first, but then Noelle had noticed the drycleaner's bag draped over her arm, and their budding friendship had crumbled. Then there had been the concerned secretary, who had tried to convince her that wearing the thing could actually be _fun_! She hadn't even finished talking before being presented with a disgusted eyeroll and firm ":No.:"

Nevertheless, the young lady was having fun, if in an admittedly perverse way. Although both her parents had spoken with the school on a number of occasions, neither had really provided much information on her. Her father, after his typical minimalist fashion, had communicated mostly via sparse emails, only telling his friend (the Director!) the most basic details of the situation: His daughter had to go to a school while they were in Japan, could she go to Ouran?

Her mother had told even less. After the third secretary had refused to speak about the last conversation they'd had with Ms. Hackenback, Noelle surmised her mother had probably spent the whole time interrogating them on their intentions toward her 'precious jewel of a daughter.' (A similar situation had arisen when Noelle had started high school). If not for the information the office had received from Noelle's school in the states (Wendell Underton High School, WUHS), they would not have even known what grade to place her in.

And so, there were a great number of flustered staff hurrying about the building, stopping sporadically to gossip with one another about the frustratingly unusual casethat just seemed to endlessly produce more and more complications. And each time one of them walked past Noelle's current seat (on a bench just outside the director's vacant office), her internal Cheshire Cat grin widened. Only the repeated attempts at getting her inside one of those despicable yellow confections could serve to dampen her mood.

_At least I'm not sitting in some class,trying to pretend I care about the correct function of a logarithm, or inventing interpretations of symbolism in a crappy old book that no one but high schoolers even reads anymore. Let's just hope they have a zero tolerance policy about the uniforms. My own policy of avoiding them like the plague should clash nicely, and I'll be out of here before they know it!_

Leaning back in her chair, musing contentedly on the possibilities that would soon be available to her, Noelle failed to notice at first that she was once again under observation. It was not until she heard that unmistakable _laugh_ that she even looked away from the ceilling. What started as a careful glance over in the direction from whence the sound emanated quickly progressed into rising out of her chair, laughing delightedly, and ended with a friendly embrace.

"Yuzuru! I haven't seen you in ages, how are you? What are you doing here, anyway? Does your son go here?" Yuzuru was perhaps Noelle's favorite of her father's friends and partners. She had met him three years ago, when he had been visiting the states on some business or other (she hadn't paid attention to the details then, and she didn't care now), and had treated both herself and her father to a number of very fun, very expensive outings. While the sheer amount of money he threw around had amazed Noelle at the time, it was the Japanese man's unique charm and whimsical sense of humor that had endeared him to her. None of her father's other associates would ever dare to tell the waiter of a posh restaurant a dirty joke, or let the giraffes at the zoo chew on their hair whilst laughingly demanding photos, let alone make any real attempts to befriend their colleague's child. _Not so much of a child anymore, though, am I?_

Suffice it to say, Noelle was honestly delighted to see the man who had brightened up several potentially horrendous events in the past. So delighted, in fact, that she forgot to hold to her earlier resolution and had addressed him in Japanese. Luckily, her surreptitious glances confirmed that there was no one around to witness her slip. _Thank goodness nobody heard me! That would suck to have the game spoiled so early on. I suppose I'll have to tell Yuzuru to only speak to me in English here—but I'm sure he'll appreciate my little prank. _So caught up in her own inner monologue was she that Noelle almost missed the considering light in her accquaintance's eye.

"…What?"

"Ah, Noelle, you really are quite the little troublemaker, aren't you?" Shaking his head from side to side, a smirk on his lips, the older man stepped forward, guiding her back toward the chair she had been sitting in. "You know, of course, that you've caused a small riot in my administration? All my nicely ordered and organized secretaries are quite beside themselves. I step into the building and am immediately barraged with any number of women wailing at me about the transfer student who doesn't understand Japanese, and is afraid of the uniform, and who apparently has control of some sort of demon that she likes to sicc on my receptionists! It's quite impressive, really." Fascinated (and more than a little smug) by the description of the chaos she had wrought, Noelle failed to notice that in fact Yuzuru had continued past the chairs and was now holding a door open for her to pass through. It was not until she was standing in front of the elegant mohagony desk that she realized the key fact she had missed before.

"Yuzuru! _You're_ the director?"


End file.
